Dead Ringer
by spacepint
Summary: After months of training with Luke, Rey goes on board the Finalizer as a spy and saboteur, working undercover as a mechanic. Everything is going great... until she's in the wrong place at the wrong time, and Kylo Ren notices the uncanny resemblance she has to a certain scavenger that he's spent months fixating on.
1. Chapter 1

NOTE: This is most likely going to be an angsty, trashy, dark, problematic mess. If you aren't okay with being exposed to that, please don't read this. :)

I have no intention of redeeming anyone.

* * *

She's on the Finalizer for sixty-four days before it all goes to shit.

She had no inkling, that morning, of the terrible shift that would occur in mere hours. She had woken up, enjoyed a brief but luxurious shower, and hadn't been surprised to see her pale face in the mirror afterward. It had taken weeks for her to get used to having her hair, which was now dyed black, falling around her face in a bob that ended mid-jawline.

Sometimes it still tickles, when she tilts her head a certain way.

She's spent more time with her coworkers than she has with anyone else in her life. Even when she had trained with Luke, he was scarce most of the time, spending only a few hours a day in her company before leaving her to her training exercises.

She's felt more like Kira than Rey for the last three weeks, a feeling that sparks shame and a tiny bit of pride within her. If nothing else, it makes her mission easier.

It hadn't taken long for her superiors to recognize her skill. Technically, they can't promote her yet, but as soon as she hits the three month mark, she'll be a class two mechanic. They've already started giving her harder assignments, and she's gotten to know some of the higher level mechanics on board.

Kira is well-liked among the other crew members. She's agreeable, eager to help, and a very good listener.

And when coworkers tell her things - private things, angry things, _traitorous_ things - Kira keeps her mouth shut. It's an incredibly important virtue, especially for a spy.

She is a repository for gossip, not a supplier.

It's this skill, more than her mechanical skills, that proves to be her undoing.

* * *

"I have an assignment for you," her supervisor says, and there's a serious glint in his eye that she's never seen before, "a very important assignment. One that you aren't going to discuss with anyone other than me."

She stares at him for a few moments before she realizes he expects her to reply. "Okay, what do I need to do?"

"There's been damage reported in room 222 of C deck. I need you to assess the scope of the damage, requisition the needed parts, and fix it, as soon as possible. And be discreet, for kriff's sake."

He's still pinning her with that look when he adds, "You've been given a temporary access code for the door, the details and the room location have been sent to your datapad. Go. Be quick about it."

"Yes, sir," she nods curtly, before checking the device and setting off in the direction of the room. It's in a part of the ship she's unfamiliar with, which isn't terribly surprising, given its immense size. She's only seen around a quarter of the ship at this point, give or take.

When she arrives at the door, there's nothing special or noteworthy that sets it apart from any other part of the ship she's seen. She inputs the code, then gasps once the door slides open and she enters the room.

One of the walls is fucking trashed, severed cables hanging out of deep gouges in the metal. The rest of the room is bare and empty, save for an archway that appears to lead to spacious living quarters. She assumes there was furniture involved in the wreckage, and that cleaning droids have already seen to it.

Her shoulders slump as she begins removing the metal paneling from the wall.

* * *

She's just sent her requisition forms via datapad three hours later when she hears the door open behind her.

 _That's gotta be a new record_ , she thinks as she turns around with a grin-

And stares into the mask of Kylo Ren, who has just walked through the door frame.

Fuck.

She looks down and turns back to her work, idly fiddling with an exposed cable.

Rey doesn't hear him move away. Shit, shit, shit. She pretends to examine the wiring to her right.

She hears his heavy footsteps then, but they're moving toward her, not the living quarters.

"Look at me," he commands, the growl of his vocoder failing to hide the urgency in his tone. She turns, slowly, and focuses her eyes on his chest. She doesn't trust herself to look at his mask, not yet.

He steps forward, crowding her against the wall, and before she can react his gloved hands reach out, smoothing her hair up and away from her face.

She forces herself to focus on the little apartment and the underground of Coruscant. She fills her mind with images, bits and pieces of a life that isn't really hers, but has begun to feel more real than her true past.

"What's your name?" She might be imagining it, but his tone seems tinged with a hint of desperation.

"Kira," she replies, and she can't help the fear that leaks into her voice.

She feels him brush against her mind, taking in her fear and the thoughts that flit across the surface.

"Where are you from?"

"Coruscant."

He stares at her in silence for several seconds, then his hands abruptly drop away from her face and he steps away from her.

"How long will it take for you to finish your repairs?"

"It should only take a few hours once the parts get here," she stumbles over her words in a rush to get them out of her mouth, "I just requested them, they should arrive soon."

"Carry on, then," he dismissively tosses over his shoulder as he walks into the bedroom.

Rey breathes out a soft sigh of relief as she presses her forehead against the wall.

* * *

She's joining the new lengths of cable to the existing wiring when she happens to glance into the bedroom.

He's sitting in a chair, staring at her, with his mask still on. How long has he been there?

Rey swallows down the bile that suddenly rises in her throat, and wills her hands not to shake as she crimps the wires.

She finishes all of the cabling and is beginning to replace the paneling when he speaks again.

"I've notified your supervisor. You'll be dining with me tonight," he pauses for a few heartbeats, "You don't need to report back once you've finished here."

Between his wording and tone, it's an order, and Rey wonders for the second time today if she's been caught.

* * *

Maintenance droids arrive with a new table and chairs before carting off the mess from the wall repair, and service droids arrive shortly afterward with dinner. Kylo Ren takes the seat nearest to the exit, which leaves Rey sitting between the table and the wall.

"You haven't been working here long. Your current service record is exemplary, though."

"Um… thank you?" She has no idea how she's supposed to respond to that.

"Where did you learn about machinery?"

"I worked for a while under a junker in Coruscant."

"So you're a scavenger, then," there's a sharp, accusing bite in his voice that she's heard before, so many months ago. It feels like yesterday.

"It's not the term I would use for myself, no," she responds quietly, although she can't help the defiance that permeates every word.

She looks down at the food. It's decadent, with some kind of meat as the main portion and colorful vegetables in a thick sauce. She hasn't tried it yet. Kylo Ren hasn't removed his mask, and she isn't foolish enough to start eating before the ranking officer does.

Her hunger must show on her face, because she hears the whir of the servomotors disengaging his mask. She looks up just as his hands pull the mask away, and her eyes drink in his face as if she's seeing it for the first time.

There's a prominent scar running diagonally across his face from where she'd struck him with Luke's lightsaber. She isn't sure why it's there; bacta gel should have healed it with minimal scarring. Maybe there weren't many medical supplies available during the evacuation of Starkiller base.

It doesn't detract from his appearance at all. If anything, it brings a sort of balance to his long and narrow features.

She feels a flush crawling into her cheeks, but she maintains eye contact, willing her traitorous body to react appropriately to the man who had murdered Han Solo in front of her.

Kylo Ren places the mask on the table, watching her reaction carefully. Apparently satisfied, he turns his attention to the food in front of him, precisely cutting his meat into cubes.

"I apologize if I startled you earlier. For a moment, I could have sworn you were someone else."

She doesn't react, doesn't dare look at him, just quietly spears some vegetable pieces with her fork.

"You weren't though," he mutters, and he sounds so bitter and disappointed that her fork pauses momentarily midway to her mouth.

The words leave her lips before she has time to think, years of painful inadequacy responding before the more reasonable part of her brain can intervene. "Sorry to disappoint."

He looks so flustered and uncomfortable for a second that she has to grind her teeth to avoid smiling. No wonder he wears a mask, his poker face is shit.

She puts all of her attention on her food, careful to follow the table manners Poe had spent hours teaching her. Her drink tastes alcoholic, probably a wine of some kind. She takes cautious, measured sips to ensure that she'll remain sober throughout the meal.

"Tell me about yourself."

"I grew up on Coruscant. I was an orphan… most of my childhood was spent being a petty thief. There was a gang of us, we worked for this guy named Solan. He ended up selling me to a junker to pay off a loan," she pauses, taking a drink of the wine, "anyway, Gavin, the junker, he ended up being pretty okay. He taught me most of what I know, and let me save up for my freedom. Once I was free, I signed up for the First Order… and now I'm here," Rey finishes lamely.

"I see."

The rest of the meal is eaten in silence. Rey focuses on the food, even as she feels Kylo Ren's eyes staring holes into her.

The only time she looks up at him is once she's finished her food. "Thank you," she says, and she's surprised by the sincerity in her voice.

"Good night," he replies, as he stands, collecting his helmet before he leaves the room.

Rey feels like her heart might beat out of her chest as the panic she's been repressing for hours surges through her body during the walk back to her room.

* * *

For a moment, he had been so sure.

But then he had reached out with the force, and had felt… nothing. She was as force-sensitive as a rock. He had brushed against her mind as an added measure, and all he'd picked up was fear and the scattered memories she had that were associated with it.

All from Coruscant. Not a desert in sight.

He slumps down on his bed, running his hand along the side of his face. He should be feeling rage right now, but he just feels… drained. Tired, in more ways than one.

He pictures Kira's face, and as he imagines it, it shifts into Rey's face, then back again.

She isn't Rey.

But he can pretend.


	2. Chapter 2

Rey spends two days worrying that she's been discovered before she begins to relax.

Which, of course, is when she receives a datapad assignment to C deck 222, well after her normal working hours.

Fuck.

She stands outside the door and stares at the keypad for what seems like an eternity, until she works up the courage to punch in the access code, the buttons cool against her fingertips.

He's sitting comfortably at the table, facing toward the door. "Please, sit," he motions to the seat closest to her. She focuses on keeping her steps steady as she moves to sit down. His helmet is on and his hood is up, and she wishes desperately that he would take them off.

He's more monster than man like this.

It feels like an eternity before he speaks again, but realistically, it's probably only a minute or two. She's sure her nervousness is slowing her sense of time.

"I have a proposition," he starts, as he leans in, lacing his fingers together and resting his arms on the table.

* * *

He'd rehearsed this moment again and again in his head before summoning her, but once the door had opened and he'd seen her anew, all sensible thought had fled.

After the destruction of the Starkiller base, he'd spent months training with Snoke, his days a mix of rigorous physical exercise and meditation. More often than not, his thoughts had drifted toward the scavenger. He'd replayed their interactions again and again, reconstructing them continuously to try to figure out how they could have ended in his favor. It hadn't taken long for his imagination to drift into fantasies that were distinctly sexual in nature.

Snoke had noticed, of course. Surprisingly, he'd seemed indifferent to the developing obsession. Snoke hadn't punished him; he'd merely warned him not to let his fixation get in the way of his mission.

Kylo Ren had been dismissed from his training with Snoke and commanded to return to the Finalizer four days ago, and on his second day back, he'd been amazed to see Rey's lookalike hard at work, fixing the mess he'd made of his wall.

Of course, the first thing he'd done after their initial encounter was unearth every scrap of information he could find about the girl. Her official files hadn't offered much, but her background information had checked out. He'd sent a competent underling to go see what he could dig up from her boss and coworkers, and all of them had positive things to say about her. She was well-liked, she was kind, she was trustworthy and discreet.

Those last two adjectives had stood out, and what had started as a nebulous desire had coalesced over the past thirty-six hours into a definite plan.

Kylo Ren's attention is brought back to the present as Kira shifts in her seat.

He clasps his hands together and leans forward on the table. "I have a proposition."

His mouth goes dry, and he waits a moment to be sure that his voice won't fail him before continuing. His vocoder can mask most emotion fairly well, but not stuttering.

"You remind me of someone. Someone who is important to me - to my mission," he corrects, waiting for a reaction from her before he continues. She gives nothing away and he doesn't trust his control enough right now to dip into her mind, so he forges ahead. "I'm willing to make it worth your while to indulge me in whatever is necessary to prepare for my mission."

Kylo Ren watches her face, and although it had been his plan to allow her to decide, to back off if she said no, he realizes now that he probably isn't capable of taking no for an answer. He has no idea what he'll do now if she rejects his offer.

* * *

Rey feels like she must have misheard something, or that her brain had shorted out due to fear or nerves and hallucinated, because this conversation is too surreal to be happening.

She stares into his mask, unblinking, as she tries to process what he just said.

He shifts in his seat, and his voice is persuasive when he says, "You wouldn't need to work anymore-"

"I like working," she flatly interrupts without thinking, and it's true. She enjoys using her knowledge, learning the new ship, the comforting feel of a spanner in her hand. There's a perfect moment where her solder is just right when she's fixing a lousy joint, and it has the same thrill as rappelling a hundred feet down the side of a ruined ship.

But more than all of that, she loves the camaraderie and companionship she's gained with the other crew members. She doesn't think she can give that up. Just thinking about it sends a jolt of misery to the pit of her stomach.

Her mission doesn't even enter the equation. It might as well be some tiny constant, dropped entirely due to how insignificant it is compared to the other variables.

Which is incredibly lucky, because Kylo Ren immediately brushes against her mind at her protest, and the surface is nothing but the pride of a diligent worker and the loneliness of an orphan.

* * *

Kylo Ren feels a pang of envy when he realizes the level of camaraderie Kira has with her coworkers. Not just jealousy over her affection for them - although there's plenty of that - but envy that she has found a sense of place, a sense of belonging.

He has yearned for that his entire life - killed for it - yet still it eludes him.

She has been on the ship for less than three months, and already she has obtained more contentment than he has in all of his years with the First Order. A small, childish part of him loathes her for that, and he wonders how hard it would be for her to maneuver a spanner if her shoulder were covered in bite-shaped bruises.

An experiment for another time, perhaps.

"Can I have time to think about this?" Her question jostles the image of his mouth on her shoulder from his mind, and his heart leaps in his chest.

She isn't rejecting him. Not yet.

"Yes," he nods, "I'll summon you this time tomorrow for your answer."

He waits a few heartbeats before dismissing her, reluctant to let her go.

* * *

Rey is inside of her quarters and changing out of her uniform when she finally snaps out of autopilot. It's unnerving to realize that she had traversed the route from Kylo Ren's room to hers out of muscle memory, and it causes her unease to ratchet higher.

She hadn't dared to consider his offer in his presence, the risk was too high that he might dip into her mind and find incriminating information. Now that she's safely alone in her tiny quarters, her thoughts race with the possibilities and implications of his proposal.

His temper is legendary, and the whispers have already started among the crew now that he's returned to the Finalizer. She's heard more rumors about him than she can count on her fingers in the last two days alone.

One of those rumors is that he has no compunction about killing staff that annoy him, and that he gets away with it because he isn't formally in the First Order's chain of command. He's a powerful man who is prone to explosive anger, so he's used to getting his way.

What will he do if she says no? Would everything that she's worked for be flushed out the airlock; the months of work and forged paperwork be for nothing? That seems like the most likely outcome.

What does he want from her? The worst thing she can think of is sex, and she's already bartered with that before, when she was starving on Jakku.

If she accepts his offer, she might be able to gain access to new parts of the ship. Certainly Kylo Ren has clearance to much of the higher intel, and she may be able to find a way to view some of it if she can get her hands on one of his datapads.

At the very least, she can learn more about her enemy. Isn't that what she's there for?

It doesn't seem like she really has a choice, but she tosses and turns all night mulling it over, anyway.

* * *

Kylo Ren has spent all day trying to distract himself. He has very few responsibilities on the Finalizer; he's mostly left to his own devices when he isn't training or attending meetings.

He'd ended up sparring most of the day, taking out his anxiety and growing rage at feeling out of control on his knights.

Now that he's sitting across from the mechanic, he feels so impatient to hear her answer that he has to fight the urge to fidget, to get up and pace.

"Well?" His tone is biting, even through the filter of his helmet.

"Would I be expected to have sex with you?" She asks bluntly.

"Would that be a dealbreaker for you?" He wants sex, of course, but he might be able to refrain from making advances if that's what it takes to get her to acquiesce.

Maybe.

Probably not.

"...No."

He feels his blood rush to his ears and his cock at her answer, and he's thankful he wore his mask. He pointedly changes the subject.

"Any other questions?"

"Can I continue with my usual work?" She stares at him evenly.

"Yes, you can still work," he quickly responds, quietly adding _for now_ in his thoughts.

"I feel it when you go in my mind. It gives me terrible migraines, and it makes doing my job nearly impossible," she glares at him as she speaks, "If I agree to this, you can't do that to me anymore. It hurts, and I hate it."

He leans back in his chair and considers her stipulation. If anything, entering her mind during their time together would probably reinforce the fact that she's Kira, not Rey.

And he desperately wants to be able to believe that she's Rey.

"Fine, but it's a habit. It may slip through," he concedes, and holds his hand up before she can interrupt, "If it does, I can do something to make up for it."

"Do you promise not to maim or kill me?"

He stares at her, dumbfounded for a moment. Heat floods his cheeks when he realizes that she has a point; his reputation is well-earned.

"I promise," he swears, and the sincerity is obvious even with the vocoder.

"Then I accept." Her eyes are steely as she stares into the visor of his helmet.

Behind the mask, Kylo Ren smiles the first genuine smile he's had in months.

"Wait here. I'll call you when I'm ready," he instructs as he gets up from the table.

* * *

Rey manages to keep her expression fixed until he leaves the room.

She feels like she's going to vomit. Of course he would expect to start whatever weird little game he's playing tonight. But for some reason, she hadn't expected to deal with it so soon - she'd genuinely thought that he would excuse her for the night once she agreed.

 _Stupid, stupid, stupid - of course he would want to get started right away_ , she thinks.

After a few minutes of berating herself and worrying about his plans, she hears his unmasked voice call out from the bedroom.

"Come here."

Shit. This can't possibly be good. She feels like she's walking on shrapnel as she makes her way into the room.

He's wearing a black tunic and black trousers, perched on the edge of a huge bed. "Sit," he manages to make the command sound like an offer, patting the spot next to him.

She's numb as her body moves to comply, running on autopilot.

He has a comb and a collection of hair ties piled next to him, and a stab of anxiety runs through her stomach.

He can't possibly put her hair up into three buns. It's too short, now. She knows from personal experience.

She maintains her blank expression as she sits down.

His hands are impossibly gentle as they move through her hair with the comb, swiftly and painlessly removing any knots. He carefully parts her hair, and begins braiding, starting from the top of her head at the part and moving down.

The feeling of another person's hands in her hair is startlingly foreign, but comforting nonetheless. There's a familiar warmth that fills her, and she wonders, not for the first time, which family member had done this for her in her youth.

"I used to do this for my mother when I was young," he says, so softly Rey thinks she must be imagining it, "it used to make her so happy."

The longing she hears in that simple sentence brings wetness to her eyes, but she squashes her empathy down before any tears can form.

He didn't have to see his mother's face when she realized she would never see her husband again. Rey did.

He can go fuck himself.

He ties her braid off at the bottom, and she holds her breath as he repositions himself on the bed so he can braid the other side. She can feel him pinning the braids at the back once he finishes.

His grip is firm but kind when he takes her chin in his hand, tilting her head from side to side to admire his handiwork.

"It suits you," he murmurs, the barest of smiles tugging at the corners of his full mouth as he takes her forearms in his hands and pulls her away from the bed, "here, come look."

He leads her to a mirror on one of the walls, moving to stand behind her. The reflection staring back at her looks far too much like Rey and too little like Kira for comfort.

She sees his expression reflected in the mirror as he stares down at her, and it is so open, so filled with childlike wonder and appreciation for a moment that she feels her chest constrict.

* * *

She's beautiful. He can't believe how real the illusion feels, even with her black hair and a different hairstyle.

She looks how he imagines Rey would look, if she were properly cared for. If she had enough food to eat, if she didn't have the stress and grime of Jakku written on her skin. In the months before, he'd thought of what it would be like to watch her eat, to watch her thin frame fill out while under his care. He'd imagined bathing her, the way the sand and dust would wash away as her body was revealed to him, inch by tantalizing inch.

He runs a single finger from the point behind the girl's ear to the top her uniform, and feels her shiver at the touch.

"It's late," he sighs disappointedly as he glances at the chronometer, "you should probably retire to your quarters for the night. I'll summon you tomorrow. Don't bother washing up or changing your uniform before you come."

She nods, and wordlessly slips out of the room. He's frozen in place until he hears the whoosh of the hall door closing, and then he makes his way to his bed.

Tomorrow would be interesting.


End file.
